was unextraordinary, excepting the weather, accepting the no u-turn sign
erected certain happenings just go ahead and happen. We had known storms,
Babies, we had known the way a clap of thunder shivers our very timbers
but we couldn't know, couldn't begin to fathom, what weathers
our errors began. Then the babies, Good God, the babies,
overfed, pillow-bodied, resilient, sometimes mean.
Asher Paine, from The Day the Babies Came Down
2 comments:
I love this poem. Love. It. (And you.)
So you say... but where o where o where are you?
(It's okay, I don't really have no 'bandonment issues or nothin'. Just saunter on in your big city way. Don't mind me..)
I MISS YOU! This is the latest in a series of manipulations to get your attention. It will not be the last.
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